How My New-Found Patience Made an Appearance on Christmas Eve Eve

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On Christmas Eve Eve, my day started with calling the company that provides propane to heat my lake house. The original plan to spend Christmas Eve Eve Eve there was dashed when I discovered that the propane tank was empty and the thermostat read 49 degrees. Nope!

That original plan had been to return home on Christmas Eve Eve by way of the county seat to pay my property tax. Yes, I had procrastinated, and there were reasons why I could not pay online. So I decided to make the trip from home, not the lake house. I hyped myself up by reasoning that I could stop for lunch at a favorite spot on the way, a restaurant that was too far to drive for a casual lunch on any other day. I set off, with my check book, the tax form, and in anticipation of a delicious lunch.

I waited fifteen minutes in the restaurant’s vestibule while two wait staff studiously avoided me, making no eye contact. Very weird, but I was determined to eat here, and talked myself into staying put, being patient, and not getting upset about being ignored.

Happily, a favorite former patient of mine showed up, and we had a lovely visit catching up with  one  another. Eventually, he told me that because he eats at this restaurant once a week, he felt comfortable asking about the wait. He was told that their computer was down and that there would likely be another fifteen minutes before we could be seated. I decided to leave and head on to the county seat, looking for lunch along the way.

Even though I was using GPS to get there, I took a wrong turn. When I pulled over to reorient myself, I noticed a text from a friend. Evidently, when she opened the link to my weekly blog post, she was treated to a full-spread ad for Viagra! Sure enough, when I tried the link, that’s what I got, too. Going directly to my website yielded the same results. I texted my webmaster to alert him to the problem and headed on my way. It was a bit unsettling to think of friends and family blithely clicking a link that promised a story about uncontrollable laughter and getting an eyeful of remedies for erectile dysfunction. Not to mention caregivers that might have been scouring the internet looking for help with a loved one living with dementia.

I made it to the county courthouse, ran the gauntlet of scanners, then asked the officer where the office to pay property taxes was since I didn’t see any signage. He replied, “Oh, it’s not in this building. It’s in the building two blocks down.”

So I walked the two blocks—only to find a locked door. After pulling on the handle for several seconds, I saw a sign that read, “Merry Christmas!!! We will be closed December 23 and 24.” I stomped back up the two blocks to my car, muttering mild curse words in my head.

I was still in need of lunch, so did a quick search for “restaurants near me.” All I could find was fast food, so I settled on Taco Bell. By this time, my Facebook feed was blowing up with people letting me know about the Viagra ad. With standard Christmas songs playing in the background, I attended to this crisis. Then, a non-Christmas song began to play. It was a horrible version of the song that will be sung at my daughter’s wedding in three weeks!

As I was drowning my sorrows in diet Mountain Dew and Nachos Belle Grande, a lightbulb went off about how I could get the property tax paid. I remembered that there was a drop box at the tax office. But I couldn’t just push a check and the form into the slot.

After my lunch, I located the post office, went in and asked for an envelope. With my credit card, I paid 79 cents for said envelope, went back to my car to write the check, but had to go back into the post office to borrow a pen to do so. Then I headed back to the secondary courthouse office and expertly dropped my envelope in the box. I also helpfully explained the situation to a gentleman I saw pulling on the locked door.

Mission accomplished, I drove the 45 minutes back home. Once there, I texted my daughter that I needed a beer, and would she like to join me. The place we wanted to go didn’t open until 4:00, so at 4:00 on the dot, I texted her again that I was at her apartment to pick her up. When we arrived at our destination, we found the door locked and a sign saying they were closed until January 3. We decided to try the new bar that had just opened in the neighborhood, but their sign said they opened at 5:00. The sign at the wine bar across the street said they were closed until December 27.

What’s a desperate woman to do when she needs a beer on Christmas Eve Eve?

We finally went to our standard brewery, and I regaled my daughter with the tale of my day. She got to see the colorful ad for ED treatments, and I told her about hearing her wedding song over the Taco Bell speakers.

So what is the moral to this story of my bizarre day? Hmm…

I have learned to be more flexible—with my time, my attitude, and my outlook. Ten years ago, I would have come apart at the seams when my day could not be executed as planned. This Christmas Eve Eve though, other than the one brief moment of silent cursing, I remained unflappable. I was slightly aggravated, but I was letting it all roll off my back. I saw the events as challenges to conquer. And the viagra ad incident was just funny. And it was fixed by the evening.

I think that my experiences during my husband’s time with Alzheimer’s disease increased my capacity for patience and flexibility. For that, I am thankful.

Another moral to the story? Beer fixes everything.